


It is the loved who stays

by sun_incarnate



Series: We Come Ashore [1]
Category: The Boyz (Korea Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mythical Creatures, Angst, Juyeon-centric, M/M, Misunderstanding, Pining, but only a little bit of it, i wont spoil what chanhee is but youd probably realize much earlier than when juyeon does, idk which period this falls in in the timeline of world history, white-haired chanhee you're vv beautiful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:29:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24412081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sun_incarnate/pseuds/sun_incarnate
Summary: In town there's talk of the favored baker living with someone born of the seas. There are rumors, of hair white as clouds and skin pale, fortnightly headed towards the waves as night falls and a dappled coat across shoulders held tight; how after a couple nights it comes back to the house stood just beyond the palm trees, knocking gentle on the door and let in despite the trails of saltwater in its wake.
Relationships: Choi Chanhee | New/Lee Juyeon
Series: We Come Ashore [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1955965
Comments: 22
Kudos: 127





	It is the loved who stays

**Author's Note:**

> this is the first time ive written something like this so i hope you still enjoy it !! i think i can personally rank this at the same level as my other works in terms of how satisfied i am with it so i think it's pretty good !!

_﹏﹏﹏_

Chanhee came into Juyeon's life in ocean waves. But not like he was half-drowned or drifted ashore, no; Chanhee came rising from beneath the tides, a cloak clutched tight by pale fingers to his throat. 

It had been just like any other day in any other month of any other year, Juyeon spending all his late afternoons with his back against the trunk of the palm tree that sits nearest to the sea. Book on one hand, pen and paper in another (if he so finds the _right_ words to write), and an earful of ocean-song whichever way he might turn his head to. 

Which is how he must have missed the soft voice calling out, with the way it had blended so melodious with the gentle lullaby surrounding him. It wasn't until the person was stood dripping saltwater not a meter before him that Juyeon's noticed him, so sudden that he'd closed his book and covered it easy with his hands lest it gets soaked from the droplets the stranger sheds. 

Juyeon hadn't been so sure if the stranger was a man, for at first glance he looked delicate enough to pass off as not. Hold Juyeon to how objectively he sees beauty, but he's raised in a place whose opinions—that rougher edges meant masculinity and gentle curves are for the feminine—are only just then truly beginning to change. And this person before him seems to be an amalgam of both; shoulders strong from the shape of it underneath the cloak, slim thighs a little lacking in muscles but enough to support their body, stature slighter than Juyeon's, pale pale all over, hair the color of ocean froth and lips a soft coral hue, a fading sunrise diluted at the edges. 

And, Juyeon is not to be judged by the lack of reaction. He was just a bit stunned, is all, it's not everyday that one gets to see someone come emerging from the waves with nothing to cover their modesty except a dappled coat of storm-cloud color, after all.

At that, Juyeon had forced himself out of the momentary stupor he'd fallen into; _this stranger seems to be wearing nothing but that cloak, they would need warmth and clothes_ , and _my house isn't far off, maybe I can let them stay the night_.

So Juyeon stood up, dusted his pants from sand and kept his posture relaxed. He stands tall when he's upright, he knows, and this has caused intimidation to others even if he'd never meant it to be. The movement had caused the stranger to flinch as Juyeon goes a little too into their personal space, eyes cast downwards and movements painted vulnerable all over. 

Juyeon had wanted to at least offer his hand to help, the stranger had looked a breeze away from toppling over, but decided against. He wasn't so sure how the action would be received. 

"Do you know of a place where I can perhaps stay for a night?" The stranger had asked of him, voice still carrying the call of the seas, albeit the slight rasp behind the words. _He must have swallowed saltwater._

A quick scan from head to toe and finding no straps nor strings across limbs that might have betrayed a satchel or a purse of some kind made Juyeon decide then. He isn't so unkind as to mention the inn that's settled at the busiest part of town, welcoming guests but rowdy and _charging fees_ , he thinks as he considers the person before him. 

"You can stay at mine, it's just past the line of palm trees," he'd replied, a finger pointed out to the direction of where his house would be. At that, the stranger had looked up, hair splaying across like clouds on his forehead.

"The town inn charges much more than what the service's worth, it gets rowdy after the folks have had beer and ale at nights, and I have a spare room in a home that sits undisturbed by others," Juyeon had offered, voice kept steady despite how surprised he is by his own willingness to help someone so new to him. There's disbelief clear in the other's eyes, as if the thought of kindness pure is alien to them as much as they are to the man that had just offered his own home.

Posture then relaxing and voice steadily getting louder, "Thank you. I'll try to not get in your way, thank you."

Juyeon had extended a hand and answered, "You look like you could use something to hold on to." to the gently raised eyebrow sent his way. But the stranger didn't take it, choosing to then grasp his cloak with both hands instead.

Looking back, Juyeon should have already known by the cloak alone. The book he was reading that day was of tales and myths recounted, after all. But there he was, the stranger trailing behind him. Nevermind the voice of his superstitious aunt he hears crowing a _You let a white-haired stranger from the seas in your home, Lee Juyeon, and you're inviting the devil_ in his mind as he opened the door wide, guiding the stranger through. They passed the coat rack, Juyeon's speculation of the stranger's nudity only barely confirmed when the other grasped the cloak tighter around their neck. 

"My name's Juyeon, by the way," he'd opened, hoping to start a conversation and steer it to something warmer and cozy. The other was looking around the space of his living room, eyes wide as they take in details.

"I was given Chanhee when I turned, so I suppose that's what mine is." 

It's more than enough for Juyeon who had started getting tired of referring to _Chanhee_ as _stranger_ in his own mind, but the way Chanhee had worded the response unsettled him if only in the slightest way. _Turned_ _?_ It does imply nothing but a transition from whatever form Chanhee has taken _before_. 

Juyeon disregarded this, too curious about Chanhee to heed the voices in his head. _Sea demon. Ocean witches. Reef dwellers._ By then he was sure they were the voices of his long-dead relatives, the loudest his mother's, scared easy of whatever things came out of the sea that they weren't well-acquainted to. He'd learned early to not bring home whatever unusual thing he might have found laying across sand dunes after a day spent walking along the beach. They've always warned him, throwing away his seaglass shards and collections of shells, that pretty things are only truly owned with a price. That he shouldn't be too blinded by them, no matter what glow they might emit and try to distract him with.

 _But the thing about dead people is_ , Juyeon thought as he guided Chanhee to sit on his worn settee, _they aren't really here anymore._

"Want something warm to drink? I could fix you a cup of tea, if you do," he'd proffered, already standing up despite the lack of reply. There's only a few steps before the space opens up to his kitchen, anyway, and in the still air of his house he's sure he'd hear Chanhee, no matter what soft form his voice might take. 

A quick decision and he'd prepared two cups nonetheless, Chanhee needed to be warm no matter what.

He was taken aback, however, when Chanhee followed him. Footsteps all light against his polished floor, there were no more water droplets tracking his steps. Juyeon ought to have offered a change of clothes before a warm drink, but he's supposed that that could wait, with the way the other's fingers were still clenching tight the fabric of the cloak.

It wasn't until the kettle had whistled sharp through the air when Juyeon braved his hesitations and asked, "Where'd you come from, Chanhee?" 

Chanhee, stuck staring at the kettle after he's flinched when it had started its shrill trebling, was still stood beside him. Lips parted, shoulders hunched as if in attempt to make himself occupy less of the space.

"The channel," was what came, hanging in its discontinuity as Chanhee watched him pour hot water in cups, brown tinting the liquid as the leaves slowly steeped.

 _The channel?_ This town is at the edge of the mainland, facing nothing but the open ocean that spreads as far as Juyeon's eyes could see. This is no channel, no, the Pacific is most definitely not a channel. What could Chanhee have meant by that?

{ Juyeon's curiosity had lain slumbering beneath the years of discipline his mother have raised him with, but Chanhee's short and obfuscate answers did nothing but rouse it. He knew he shouldn't get too attached, _Chanhee only asked to stay for a night_ , it's what was drilled into his head ever since he'd started looking out to the sea more often a time than he spent playing with the other kids of this town, but this person before him enthralled him so. 

Because that's what he was beginning to be by then, was he not? _Already growing attached_ , and wondering what it is that Chanhee seems to hide, going by the way he'd casted furtive glances at everything around him. 

Juyeon, whose questions weren't tampered at least a bit by all the stories and warnings his mother had told him, longs to know and be let in on the secret; if only to have it mean that Chanhee trusts him, and that the other could be comforted by him.

Maybe it's because he'd look so alone, and Juyeon knows how it feels to not have anyone. Getting too ahead of himself, but _maybe we both could be each other's friend_. }

It didn't take long for them to head back to the living room, Juyeon holding both their cups as Chanhee seemed to not have any plans of letting go of his cloak. After setting the cups on a low table, he stood up and headed to his room, opening cabinet doors and rummaging for his softest clothes. He came back to Chanhee setting his cup back, already drained despite Juyeon's still steaming one. 

When he'd offered the clothes, Chanhee took the pants first, Juyeon quickly averting his eyes when he removed his cloak hastily and set it folded gentle on the couch. _Could have at least warned me_ , and then the shirt. _He must feel uncomfortable with saltwater still on his skin_ , maybe Juyeon should have first offered a bath. 

_Too late now_ , he figured, as the other's already finished dressing up. _So Chanhee's a he, it would seem_ , when Juyeon's bottoms hung low on the other's hips, a slight outline of him pressed evident against the soft cotton of the garment's front when Juyeon risks a look down. Chanhee's still looking around the space, Juyeon thanking whatever god comes into mind that he wasn't caught staring at places where he shouldn't be. 

They ended up talking about Juyeon and his life through dinner and sleepless hours, Chanhee having too many questions, even if Juyeon wished they didn't. He had been itching to know more about Chanhee after all, but conversation's conversation, and good company like Chanhee is harder to find. All too soon it was nearing dawn, and only then was when they started to yawn amidst words. 

"We'll continue when we wake up, Chanhee." was what he'd said as he guided a stumbling Chanhee to the spare room, tucking him into bed and covering him with the finest blanket he could find in the drawers. When he'd doubled back to the kitchen before making his way to his own room, set on draining a glass full of water, he'd passed by the living room and saw the cloak on the couch. 

He'd started to move to hang it on the rack by the door, but decided against it and shrugged; it isn't his anyway. He had no right moving it from where Chanhee's set it down.

When Juyeon woke up to prepare meals at midday, there were hurried footsteps from the hall and Chanhee stopped from where he'd almost tripped in his haste as he emerged from around the corner. His eyes had widened so, as if in slight panic, scanning the furnitures. His gaze settled on his cloak on the couch untouched, then glanced at Juyeon setting the table who was watching him as he paired forks with spoons. Chanhee smiled at him as if in gratitude and when they started to talk over the meal, he'd said _I came from the sea, and this is the first time I've been so far inland_ , as if an expression of trust extended.

And only a night was what was promised, really; but Juyeon's left to wonder why it's been a lot of days all of a sudden. 

"It's been a couple of weeks, Juyeon." Chanhee had said over dinner. Juyeon glanced up from where he was cutting his pork to smaller bites, eyebrows shot up in question.

Juyeon's aware, now that he's presented a measure of just how long Chanhee's been staying with him. There hadn't been a single thought of _payment for the stay_ and _just how long will he be here?_ It confuses him, though, how the other's become part of his days so easy, as if he were a relative or close friend who's come home from a long journey. They weren't even _anything_ to each other, but why does the feeling of _whatever this is_ ending such a foreign concept to Juyeon?

"If I went away for two nights, went home, am I still welcome to come back here?" Voice timid and lacking the distinct sharpness it had started to develop the past days, Chanhee resembled the stranger Juyeon first met. Unsure and hesitant. 

{ He'd already thought of the answer by then, an easy _Yes, you are, the door's open and you can come back anytime you may wish to_ slipping its way to the forefront of his mind before he can think of it and the consequences it might bring. 

Chanhee's now more of a friend when he'd started getting comfortable in the new place, something he himself had admitted to. And Juyeon hadn't felt this close to anyone in years, in a sense that it has become more a matter of personal connection than the physical distance non-existent when you're sharing a house with someone else. It didn't matter where he's from, or that to others it might seem that Chanhee's overstaying and abusing his kindness. No, this feels much more than that.

Juyeon would wake up in the mornings and prepare meals, urging Chanhee up to eat before he leaves to work for the only bakery in town. When he'd come home just a couple of hours after midday and smelling strongly of cinnamon as flour dusts his hair still, the other would smile at him from where he's sitting under the patch of sunlight that seems to always fall from the windows in the exact same space on his living room as it had for years. 

One day, he'd taken Chanhee to town and marveled at him marvelling, all white like a dove, overwhelmed shy by the noise and the people and the loud, loud _singing, can you hear how beautiful they all sound together, Juyeon?_

Then he'd looked sudden sad, a muttered _I sing alone back at the cave_ quiet from underneath the pout of his coral lips before they stretch again into this smile that starts slow dragging as the smell of savory food wafted through the air. He hadn't paused to elaborate on that, so Juyeon let it be.

All day, Juyeon held on to Chanhee's hand and whispered assurances to the other when townspeople greeted Juyeon with warmth and familiarity but Chanhee with nothing but raised eyebrows and inquisitive silence. _It's just your hair, don't worry. We're all dark-haired here, so that light white brands you foreign. They'll get used to it the more they see you around._

Juyeon's never been more confused, because he doesn't know where they stand. He feels guilty even at the thought of asking for payment; he'd only opened his home because of kindness, after all.

 _Just kindness?_ His heart whispers, and Juyeon knows that try as he might to silence it, it'll always overpower all his efforts.

 _Or were you finally weary of the loneliness?_ }

Aloud, "You're always welcome here, Chanhee. I appreciate the company, and you're more than enough at being one." 

And finds that he truly meant it. Despite knowing so little from the other, Juyeon didn't mind Chanhee's presence in his home. He'd grown to like the other, in the way that he supposes one would feel towards his closest friend and confidant. _It's the pretty things that seldom stay, Juyeon_ , his mother's voice came reprimanding, but even then it had sounded subdued, as if fighting for a war with the knowledge of an augured defeat.

 _But Chanhee is so much more than a mere pretty thing_ , Juyeon could amass all of the things his younger magpie self could've found glinting through his years and they would come up short to what value Chanhee holds to him. Juyeon doesn't dwell on that, about how easy it is to think that Chanhee holds a place in his heart now. Because he's more than a thing who's fate is to simply be collected and bottled away to Juyeon, and as he thought of this he can't help but be aware of the way his heart had quickened its pace at the realization.

"Just make sure to come back when I'm home. We can't have anybody thinking you're a thief breaking in when you come back and I'm at work."

Rewarded with a huff of laughter, more of air than anything else, Juyeon focuses back on his meal, the meat then shredded to much smaller bits than they had been when they started.

_﹏﹏﹏_

That was how they started, and in Juyeon's days now it's of a normal occurrence to wait for Chanhee coming back every couple of weeks. He would always go away clutching his grey cloak about him, careful in the way it sways in the wind. 

Juyeon hadn't really felt the need to ask about it, simply assumed it must be something of such value that it's treasured so even in the way it's handled. It hadn't ever been hung on the coat rack where Juyeon's coats and blazers were, just folded neatly atop Chanhee's bed or slung in gentle drapes on the couch whenever Chanhee's coming from the sea all salty. 

When he'd asked one time, Chanhee's mien had turned into this demeanor Juyeon could only call guarded. The shift had been so sudden, with Chanhee's carefree grins turning stony closed and cold in a second. Even without voiced excuses, Juyeon knew that this is one piece of Chanhee's story that he's not allowed to ask of. Not now, not ever; but maybe if Chanhee's opened the topic first.

So he dropped the question, sifting through his memories for more bits of knowledge that he knows, once made alive as soon as he speaks it to the tense air, would take Chanhee's mind off of his curiosity.

Although Juyeon does not yet know how it feels to keep to himself something so great to warrant such extent of secretiveness, he respects that; everybody's keeping a fair share of their own secrets, after all.

So he ignored whatever pang of hurt he felt, _this isn't distrust, some people you just can't know in their entirety_ , thinks he might've only imagined it, and continued the conversation to bring back the smile on the other's face.

_﹏﹏﹏_

Months passed swift just so, and in town there's talk of the favored baker living with someone born of the seas. There are rumors, of hair white as clouds and skin pale, fortnightly headed towards the waves as night falls and a dappled coat across shoulders held tight; how after a couple of nights it comes back to the house stood just beyond the palm trees, knocking gentle on the door and let in despite the trails of saltwater in its wake. 

Juyeon hates it, how they talk about Chanhee as if he isn't a person just like any other inhabitant of this seaport town, how they see him as a _thing_. He ignores any other rumors in favor of this one, because all talks of _Lee Juyeon, living alone with another man?_ will only go so far in this town where the foreign is usually just accepted after some time. The inns and all these plaza streets had seen all forms of love, anyway, and chance says that it's only born of people's genuine surprise that he'd end up with somebody. 

No, the greater issue here is that Chanhee's a stranger with white hair common to not-people folk according to myths and seafarer tales, who lives with Juyeon and leaves every other week only to come back smelling so strong of the seas.

He ends up ignoring them anyways, he himself not finding the right words to argue with, brushing all questions aside with a smile and a free pastry if ever the inquirer decides that one disregarded question isn't enough. It'll only take long for them to stop talking about it except for when someone new to town asks for recent local tales, anyway. 

_﹏﹏﹏_

And yet, that day had been particularly hard for Juyeon. There was this merchant that has just docked then to trade goods, who's caught wind of the subsiding talk about this _pretty little thing living with you, I hear, can I see him? How'd you manage to own him?_

There's that phrase again. And _own Chanhee?_ Juyeon struggled to maintain the smile on his face, patience spread thin like little butter over too much bread. But no matter how much he'd tried to evade the topic, _how many I'm sorry sir, you must be mistaken, here's your pastries, thank you for your patronage_ 's he'd already said, the man would not budge until Juyeon gives him an answer that'll satisfy his curiosity. 

_How can he think of another person as a property?_ It was not until the owner of the bakery had stepped up to intervene and threaten the man with reports to the capital that he'd finally relented and walked away. 

Juyeon had never been more thankful to his employer, who'd patted his back after the customer had gone away and brushed all of his relieved gratitudes aside with a cheery eye smile and an advice to help the other bakers clean the ovens and close up for the day to make up for the narrowly-avoided incident and all the pastries he's given away for free. Juyeon didn't complain even if it'd surely be hours past his usual time, and the others _are_ his friends, too, even if he didn't spend so much time with them.

He trailed home later than he's used to, shoulders heavy with the weight of the barely avoided fight with the merchant, the sun already on it's way to kissing the seas when he opened the door. 

In the last minutes of sunlight, Juyeon settled down on the spot Chanhee often lounged on. The sun wasn't high enough to make it through the window by then, but the glow of it remained still, so he took a moment to breathe and ponder about everything, taking careful measures of time to pore over details. Chanhee went home a couple days ago, later in the evening is when he comes back, and Juyeon now has more time in his hands to kill. 

So he thinks about himself, and how everybody at the market had started to look at him much more than they did before this.

Had it really been so unexpected for him to have someone to live with? Juyeon knows that he isn't the most sociable person this town has ever met, but surely he can't be that bad? It is no new fact that he's always been the kid who spends more time with books and sole wanderings at the beach than with playmates and friends. But he's never been called strange for it, _when you grow up by the sea, then it is with the sea where you'll stay_ , just that he's let alone to himself. The minimal interaction with others didn't bother him, and he's never thought that it isn't normal.

Had he really been singling himself from everybody else? He'd hoped not; it _is_ a progressing town with all the ships docking for trades, gateway to the mainland. The population is already too great for Juyeon to befriend and appease them each per person.

And then there slips the question of _what_ Chanhee truly is, for however much Juyeon might think of it he just isn't quite like him. He knows it's rude, even thinking about it, but he's hearing the whispers as he passes by shops on the street, almost never about him but of who he's living with. 

{ _How white his hair shines, Have you heard of his singing, Sounds just like sirens, I swear I've seen him go under the ocean and never come up for air, Cloak always about and wrapped around shoulders, Sea Demon, Ocean Witch, Reef Dweller, Where does he go every couple of weeks, Not human, Not like us, Not Human._ }

As much as he tries not to, he ends up noticing details about Chanhee, trying to see if he could understand what the others are talking about. He's lived with him for months now, and only in this moment is when Juyeon starts to wonder.

There's a glow about Chanhee, something Juyeon would gladly term otherworldly to anybody who asks that he word it, and then he'd debate that it isn't just his heart speaking. Because whenever Chanhee thinks he isn't looking, Juyeon is. 

{ So long a time spent being alone had taught him how to pay attention to the most little of things, after all. }

It's nothing for him to spend time just observing people, which is how he'd noticed that without fail, some nights the skin on Chanhee's dainty fingers will start to crack as if desert-dry and not an hour will pass before he'd be saying _Juyeon, I'll be going back tonight._

Juyeon had watched Chanhee sway to no music, eyes closed and letting himself be, arms away from his sides as if he's drifting along currents. How at times he's stumbling on his own feet, tripping over nothing, as if he isn't quite used to using them yet. 

How when at town Chanhee's almost always asking to take him to the flower shop, _there are no flowers like them down under, Juyeon, please_ , and how he's so facilely drawn to everything warm. Like moths to candles, like plants to the sun, and if Juyeon would only think about it, this might explain why Chanhee reaches for his hand first. 

{ When Juyeon asked once while looking at both their hands woven together, _Why?_ , Chanhee too had looked down and eased his grip so that it's only Juyeon who really does the holding.

To which Juyeon had responded with his own hand tightening the hold, not meaning nor wanting to let go, just curious why Chanhee acts like he's cold most of the time. Why he craves heat, even if it means that sometimes the honeyed tea will burn his tongue and throat. Why he smiles despite tears misting his lashes and threatening to fall, but not regretting not heeding Juyeon's advice to take it after it's cooled down. 

Why he lingers in embraces and moments of their skin touching.

"This is the warmest I've ever been," a nondescript vanilla had then colored Chanhee's voice. "The warmth. I want it all over me." 

His hold went tight once again.

An unvoiced question, kept close to Juyeon's heart: _Why me?_

An answer in a glance, when Juyeon had turned his head: _Look at me and really try to see. Do you really not know?_ } 

Juyeon sees how Chanhee cares for his mottled cloak, the fabric of it a mosaic in its storm of grey monochrome, guarding it with a fierce cautiousness against all tears and abrasions. How it sheens with this light that escapes Juyeon's limited but still somehow broad understanding of how saltwater should affect clothes, or how it looks like it should be silk from the way it clings to Chanhee's body when he dons it, too much like a second skin more than anything.

{ Cloak a second skin. Drying skin cracking. The scent of saltwater following him. Emerging from the sea. Skin a pale deep-ocean pearl. }

Juyeon had been reared in superstitions and tucked into beds of sailors' prayers against sea devilry while wrapped in blankets of wary concern towards the depths that whisper a lullaby of drowned men. _"I came from the sea, and this is the first time I've been so far inland."_

Or Chanhee could have lived all his life in some merchant's ship, born and bred atop wooden vessels swaying over the waves. The ship could have submerged, wrecked by a storm, and consequently robbing him of everything, leaving him with nothing but his cloak. _Better to think of it this way, right?_ Juyeon reasons while his mind still wanders, linking details to bits of information he'd grown up with.

 _And_ , his brain pulls up memories to argue, there had been tales and his own recollection of music through nights he recalls haunting across the echoes it brings bouncing from stone walls of the cave hidden by risen tides. Not a song of sirens, no, they tempt only those aboard ships. This song sung is _inland, ashore._

Juyeon had been near to entering it one low-tide sunset had he not been tracked and halted by his aunt on his way to, this hollowed stone hill looming at the farthest bend of the beach where the rocks make it hard to walk through unwounded. There's no mistaking the melody coming from it, although Juyeon should not have been able to hear it from so far. Much like it was being carried by the winds, this loneliness and cry planting deep inside him. 

He doesn't recognize that voice, and it couldn't have been Chanhee's. His is higher and softer than what Juyeon's memory could present to him, but he feels the same gloom and melancholy thinly-veiled, reaching deep into him whenever Chanhee intones and gives harmonies to words Juyeon writes. _"I sing alone back at the cave."_

Nothing explains why Chanhee needs to go back, and whatever feeble reason Juyeon came up with all by himself all amount to bare speculations. He should talk to Chanhee about this, he knows, but it isn't so easy a task when the other shuts all conversations that start leading to his past. So what choice does Juyeon have but to delve deeper into his own knowledge? 

Juyeon stood up, body abuzz with the need to know. He refuses to acknowledge this feeling and name it impatience, masking and calling it barely-bridled curiosity instead. So he heads for his room, steps hastened with restlessness. 

The door swings open, and reveals opposite his bed a bookshelf spanning from one corner to another, merged to his cabinet on the leftmost side so it's all one continuous wall of wood slabs. On the shelf at his eye level, there rests his assemblage of books. Leather-bound, woven with strings at the spine, handmade; all these are what little pleasures he'd collected now that he's grown out of wanting to adorn his room with all sorts of souvenirs from the sea.

He scans them, fingers light tracing the words on each spine, and stops at one. _What I Know Of The Seas._ It's an old book, red-dye hardened leather more of a journal than actual volume, a handwritten account of tales and poetry and sketches by a traveler who's stopped his journeys to woo a man. He'd given it to Juyeon after seeing him eye the book when the traveler stopped by the bakery almost a couple of years ago. 

{ _"This book in exchange for two of your softest loaves, and a promise to only ever look at the sea in quiet admiration."_ And Juyeon, whose love for words had only started to truly flourish after the death of his relatives a month before this encounter, had been surprised by the request and handed him three. Promise spilling from his lips, eager to see for himself what world awaits inside the pages. The traveler had laughed softly in delight, slim lips curled, accepting the loaves wrapped in paper with a beaming smile. 

_"I started to write that a day before I went on my first voyage. It had been one mighty odyssey, and this book had been the only companion I had who stayed until the end. But, alas,"_ the traveler looked over his shoulder, gaze landing on a tall figure talking to vendors on the opposite street before turning back to Juyeon, _"it is always for love that we stop to come home, isn't it?"_

And Juyeon, then recognizing someone whose love and words are both too great things to keep hidden under tongues much like how he desperately wants to be, had replied, _"Always had, and always will be."_ A smile and a word of gratitude was said his way. A click of the tongue, sudden through the air, and the traveler glanced at the book now atop the counter.

 _"It's yours now. I know the words by heart, anyway. And thank you for the bread, he'd love these, I'm sure."_ At that, the traveler had turned away, steps hurrying to where the tall man awaits at the shop opposite the bakery. }

And now, the cracking leather of the book is warmed atop Juyeon's hands. This was the book he'd been reading when he first met Chanhee all those months ago, he realizes. _How fitting._

Flipping through the leaves, he scanned each quickly, looking for the chapter where the traveler had dedicated pages to all tales of the sea he'd heard and known. There were sprites, sea nymphs, the Greek monsters of the deep, sirens and ghost ships in the mists. He'd read this book countless of times already, which is how he knew to consult it now that Chanhee's origin confuses him so. He's confident of his memories, this morsel of proud surety a product of his habit to reread the same thing over again. 

Still, there must be something he's missed, _hubris is hamartia_ , so he returns to his skimming. One page caught his attention, the little amount of words intriguing him as well as the lead-lines of a cave well-drawn.

"There are stories, among unwed fishermen and lonely sea-travelers, of folk draped in cloaks with voices tempting," Juyeon reads aloud, the section of the page only containing little paragraphs and the rest full of sketches of a cave rising above waves. 

"They say that these folk turn from seals to beautiful people, gracefully-limbed and pale head-to-toe from where the sunlight doesn't reach deep down the channel. There are also accounts of them singing haunting melodies echoing from caves with entrances at times hidden by rising tides. These places are where they hide their cloaks while they come to town to mingle with people.

"If someone manages to find the cloak, I have been told that they can lock it up or hide it away, and use it to keep the creature ashore, more often than not forcing them to be their partners in life, for they can't turn back to being seals if their cloak is not in their person. This traps them to a mortal life, never going back home to the sea."

Juyeon's breathing has increased its pace, and there's this pounding he hears in his ears. How could he have forgotten? Of course, Chanhee's no sea demon or ocean witch. He's glancing back to the word penned at the uppermost part of the page, now understanding the title of the chapter and how Chanhee relates to everything that's written, when the pounding becomes a little more insistent and he realizes it's coming from his front door.

Juyeon's taking long strides to reach it, and when he opens it he does not know why he's a little surprised at the sight of Chanhee, cloak dripping still and hair plastered wet on his forehead. There's a puddle of water pooling at his feet and he's smiling up at Juyeon, but he can see the exhaust in it. He widens the gap of the door and pulls Chanhee to his home's warmth, guiding him to the living room just like how he did the first time they met. There's no hesitation in the action, and Juyeon could only wonder why. 

{ Maybe it's because he's used to it too much so. } 

"No troubles on the way home, I hope?" He rushes to the kitchen, him setting out to make tea now a routine with how many nights this had transpired already. Juyeon knows that by the time he heads back to the living room with both hands holding steaming mugs of steeping tea, Chanhee would be already dried up and changed to Juyeon's clothes.

But as he's setting the mugs down the low table, his eyes catch on something else. Chanhee's cloak, dark planes lightening up as they dry, mottle speckled across the surface of it. 

_Cloak a second skin. Drying skin cracking. The scent of saltwater following him. Emerging from the sea. Skin a pale deep-ocean pearl_. Seal folk, was what the traveler had written. 

Chanhee's a _Selkie_.

When Juyeon looks up to meet the other's eyes, Chanhee smiles in that gentle way of his, as if to reassure him that nothing's wrong, as if he sees much more than the simple question and into Juyeon's very worries.

"No troubles on the way here." 

_﹏﹏﹏_

Juyeon does not know how it started, but a large chance says it's from when he'd guessed just what Chanhee truly is. He'd been attentive at home, attuned now to Chanhee so much so that the other had noticed it whenever Juyeon would constantly ask of him if he was doing alright, or if he's feeling fine, or if he needed anything else; to which Chanhee had responded with a shaky _Is there anything wrong, Juyeon? Did I do something?_

He did not mean for his behavior to concern the other, and it had the effect opposite to what he was going for. Juyeon had only hoped to make Chanhee more comfortable, after all, because he'd be damned if he acted like any of those selfish fishermen in the traveler's book. And besides, selkie or not, Chanhee deserves to be treated with respect just like any other being.

They didn't have the chance to talk about it. Much more like Juyeon did not have the chance to open it up, because summer brought warmer weather to their town and consequently more people with it. Meaning, the bakery would need all the help it can, whipping up new recipes for new tongues and keeping up with the dozens of batches per order from the locals. So he'd come home much later, and one time Chanhee even got home from the sea before he did. 

No worries over people thinking he's a thief now, though, for at times Chanhee would go by himself to town, _To see you, Juyeon, you're only ever at home to sleep these days_ , and wander around so often that townspeople know him already by name. When he got tired from walking or the heat, he'd stop by the bakery and sit on one of the outdoor tables set for customers. Other times he'd talk to Juyeon from where he's stacking loaves and rolls on shelves where they can be displayed, words thrown over the counter. 

On those days he'd head home with Juyeon, holding his hand all the way, saying he's afraid of tripping over wayward roots of trees or rocks scattered. 

Juyeon had permitted him to look through his room, if only to peruse and find things to be busy with. There's nothing much that he owns, just his books and trinkets and everything his shelves hold. Everything's at plain sight, and Juyeon's never bothered hiding anything even when Chanhee had started to stay with him. 

{ What he hides and hopes Chanhee doesn't come to know of are intangible, anyway. Juyeon thinks that ribcages are a much more suitable shelf for a heart. } 

It didn't bother him when Chanhee asked if Juyeon could teach him how to read because he's never learned how to and _the amount of books in your room would much certainly entertain me_ , so whenever Juyeon's allowed to he'd lean over the counter and teach Chanhee the vowels and consonants from books, sheets of written syllables between them. Chanhee had progressed quickly, mostly only needing to recognize the letters before he's on his way to borrowing Juyeon's books.

So it's no suprise when he spies Chanhee down the street walking towards him from where he's seated on one of the bakery's outdoor seats, allowed to take a breather and feel some wind as relief to the heatwave and the suffocating scorch from the ovens. In the distance, Juyeon can make out the shape of a book held tight in one of Chanhee's hands. 

He'd stopped in front of one of the stalls selling flowers, talking to the owner that he seems to have befriended the past few days. A quick wave as goodbye to his dimpled friend and he's headed towards Juyeon again, and in the lessened distance he can see the red color of the book's leather. Juyeon knows what it is even though he's still too far away to read the title. _What I Know Of The Seas._

"Juyeon!" Chanhee greets as he settles down the chair opposite his, "I took this one with me today, I hope you don't mind." 

New to the written alphabet, he must have picked this particular book for its lesser word count. The traveler had done a great work at storytelling, each myth and tale only told in short paragraphs with detailed sketches to accompany them.

Juyeon does not mind, he'd already allowed Chanhee to do so. But Juyeon can't help but feel somewhat skittish, and if he were something feline he thinks he'd have started to slowly raise his hackles. What if Chanhee reads the chapter about him? _Even if I'm still yet to hear from his own mouth that he is one, what would he feel if he knows I know about selkies?_

"I don't, and you know that. I would not have offered if I am," he murmurs, voice lowering in volume as he stands up after hearing the call of his name from inside the bakery.

"Back to work?" Chanhee asked, to which he'd just hummed an answer. 

"Call for me when you feel hungry, alright? And notify me before you start walking about." He'd put a hand atop Chanhee's head, resting it light on the soft waves of his hair. Chanhee had already started on the book, the first chapter titled _Scylla and Charybdis_ , nodding his head to acknowledge Juyeon's request. 

Between Scylla and Charybdis: To ask of Chanhee's past and get an answer, or to turn to ashes once his burning need to know finally consumes him as he continues to rein it in?

Juyeon thinks back to his options, and pretends he isn't affected so by the phrase.

_﹏﹏﹏_

When Juyeon thinks about it long enough, he catches on to the fact that Chanhee and him are utterly domestic. A little something aches in his chest, but he drowns it quick before it can float above the waves. Must be evident in the way they've learned how to move around each other in the space of their home, knowing when to assist or walk a step behind or offer subtle touches of reassurances. 

It does take him long enough to be aware of it, it would seem, because at the plaza he'd be informed of his husband approaching _yet again_. Not given the chance to reply as those who'd told him were already turned chuckling around, Juyeon would then feel hands holding his. He doesn't need to look to know that it's Chanhee, he's the only one who'd always touch Juyeon in the open like this, after all. Which is why the others must have mistaken him to be his partner, Juyeon realizes, because with Chanhee was the first time they've seen him be this close to someone else.

And really, he might've corrected them too if not for Chanhee already dragging him away to look at whatever flowers had bloomed new on his friend's shop down the street, not asking if he's free from the bakery, now knowing the schedule of his breaks by heart.

And back at home, it's Juyeon who's trusted in the kitchen. It's only a little bit of an adjustment for him to cook to fill an extra plate, and Chanhee's hands are too shaky and still delicate to handle knives yet, anyway. So it's Chanhee that tidies up the house and Juyeon who prepares meals, as was arranged. And that's a routine, one they can live with.

What was not planned, however, was for Chanhee to share a bed with him. 

Their town is at the outermost edge of a tropical mainland, which means that Juyeon would only know of four seasons from his readings. Which means they only have sunny weather and rainy weather, and that the feeling of snow against skin would remain something to only dream about. 

Now that the height of summer's already fading, the rains have started their pitter-patters against all exposed surfaces. It is by no means freezing, they'd have to wait for the end of the year to truly feel the chill, but Chanhee comes knocking on his bedroom door one midnight when the rain's heavier than it had been the past days. 

"Juyeon," he says when the door opens, pillow and blanket held against his chest, "can I sleep with you?" 

Pushing aside all thoughts of what other meaning those words could have had, Juyeon widens the gap of his bedroom door. He doesn't feel like speaking much tonight, tired from being rain-soaked all the way home. It doesn't matter anyway, he reasons, because he won't be heard over the sound of rain.

So he settles down his bed and moves close to the wall, a space beside him made to fit Chanhee. It isn't like he'll make Chanhee sleep on the floor. He'll fit, sure, even if Juyeon's bed isn't that wide. The other's smaller than him, and if they end up touching Juyeon feels like the both of them wouldn't really mind a little more heat for the night.

When Chanhee lays down, he's facing Juyeon. The line of his body is stiff, as if he isn't comfortable even with the blanket and pillow he hugs close.

It takes no effort to be heard when they're this close, and Juyeon could feel the cold of the after-midnights already chilling his body and running goosebumps all over his skin. If he, who usually does not mind the cooler weather, is close to shivering, he can only think of how this affects Chanhee.

So, "You alright, Chanhee?" like a fragile whisper, a breeze soft atop his sheets. 

In the distance a thunderclap resounds, the first of the season, making him peer through his window. Juyeon worries for Chanhee who's easily overwhelmed by all things loud. And as it is, he's already shaking when Juyeon looks to make sure of his condition. Wasting no time, he pulls the other close, getting rid of the pillow Chanhee's holding between them to fit him in his arms. 

There is no protest, no sound of complaint, and if the rain hadn't been too dinning Juyeon thinks he might have heard the sigh he feels breathed against the skin of his neck from where Chanhee's nuzzled his head to. _Sounds must be subdued underwater_ , Juyeon thinks as he recalls Chanhee shrinking away from noises, _so everything's louder above the waves and he's still fairly new to the true sound of thunderstorms_. It's still the start of the season, and more are sure to head their way with where their town is located by the coastline. 

It's just another matter to get used to, Juyeon thinks as he holds Chanhee tighter still, who's stopped his shaking now that he's warm enough to not be bothered by the thunders anymore. He knows they'd end up sharing his bed for the next following months, sleeping all storms away. 

Juyeon tries to not be affected with the way the other grasps at his hands, seeking more of his warmth. Reasons it's because he's the only one around, and that Chanhee would be just like this to anybody else.

 _What would it mean to him, anyway?_ Chanhee's lips are moving, a song of gratitude spilt against Juyeon's collarbones. How is he not moving away from the loudness of Juyeon's heartbeats? _Domesticity is only a delight when it's from mutual feelings, and it isn't like Chanhee feels the same._

_﹏﹏﹏_

There sat Chanhee, underneath the dark of oncoming dusk. He's smiling gentle, gaze not out the window looking for the sea but focused on Juyeon for what he can vaguely identify as the first time. Must be, _must be_ , for he can't ever recall a time when Chanhee's focused at him so intently, like something to miss even if he's so near to reach.

He turns away, choosing to be anchored down deep before he can get a glimpse of true sunlight above the waves. He can't think of Chanhee like that, can't let himself believe that _this_ is something reciprocated, lest it affects the way they move with each other.

But Juyeon, no matter which ways he might consider and try, is not able to grasp a memory to ground him, to remind him of how he used to spend his sunsets alone.

_﹏﹏﹏_

Having somebody else close enough to fight the loneliness with is something Juyeon is only starting to get acquainted to. He'd spent some years alone, after all, so it took him time before he got used to waking up having another someone in his house.

An excuse, he knows, but a valid one, because he'd never really ever had someone with a role like Chanhee's in his life. _And what would that role be?_

Juyeon thinks back to all the times Chanhee had held his hands, the gentle way he sways as music floats through the streets he's exploring with him, how Chanhee has taken to slinging an arm around his waist as they lay down his bed. All the times he'd called Juyeon's house his _home_ , as if it's something they both now share as theirs.

The late afternoons now spent under the patch of sunlight on his living room instead of by the sea, reading books with Chanhee. The ruffles on his hair to get rid of dusting flour and the embraces as he opens the door, _I love the scent of cinnamon on you_ , the sometimes random blooms taken home from where Chanhee's started to work at his friend's flower shop, given in ribboned bouquets just before bed. 

But the true question is: What would Juyeon like that role to be? 

To which he knows the answer to, had since discovered from that first thunderclap nights ago. 

He's fallen, hasn't he? And he'd been slow at being aware of it that he's hit the waves without feeling it, the reality of his heart's truths now the pressure of the deep dragging him down further still. 

_I would like for him to know, that this is not to trap him, that I'll hold him to me with my heart alone._

_﹏﹏﹏_

What Juyeon did not take into account, however, is how Chanhee must feel about everything. 

It came one night, the revelation, as Chanhee comes back from wherever it is that he's been going back to all these months. Juyeon still hadn't asked, it slipped his mind completely in the haze of all shared nights and mornings and _everything_. With which he continues to fool himself, if only to prolong the dream before he wakes up alone again. 

The proverbial pinch that brings him back to proper consciousness is the sound of Chanhee's voice from where he's stood in the middle of the living room, everything about him dripping with saltwater still. Juyeon moves to make him tea, a futile attempt in the face of what looks to be hurt and anger in Chanhee's actions. In a moment, there's a hand sudden gripping his wrist tight, with strength Juyeon never knew the other had, in a way that'll surely bruise if he leaves himself at the mercy of Chanhee.

"I don't want your damned tea right now, Juyeon." 

And what could he do, if not to wait for the anchor tied to him to finally kiss the ocean floor, condemning him yet again to be lonely and alone? _When you grow up by the sea, then it is with the sea where you'll stay._

"Chanhee, at least take off your cloak, please–" Juyeon can't stand it, how much he shakes in the face of the confrontation he knows is coming–"you'll get sick with how cold you are." 

But Chanhee gently slaps his hands away from where they're trying to reach him, cloak clutched tight to his chest as if to protect himself. So reminiscent of the first time they met, and Juyeon wants to run away.

"Surely you know what I am?"

 _So this is it_. Chanhee's voice is quiet, volume a little above the whisper of the sea when it's at its calmest. 

Juyeon thinks back to his book, the red leather of it looking all the more vivid held by Chanhee's pale hands. He knows where it is now, back to the shelf when Chanhee's already finished reading it days ago. _Seal folk. Selkie._

"Of course," he responds, can't help the way his voice mirrors Chanhee's, hushed and barely-heard, can't help the way he moves to be closer, can't help the way his arms reach out to hold. 

"Not once have you left without your coat." 

{ _I have dreams of you and in them you always, always taste of the sea_. }

A cry, outraged, laced with confusion more than the fear for the answer, "Then why won't you keep me?" 

_Pretty things are only truly owned with a price. It's the pretty things that seldom stay, Juyeon._

{ Keep you, Chanhee? }

_Pretty little thing living with you, I hear, can I see him? How'd you manage to own him?_

{ Own you, Chanhee? }

A long silence stretches, and in it Juyeon recalls the tales of fishermen hiding away a selkie's cloak, remembers Chanhee reading the book, imagines Chanhee thinking Juyeon must have only been good to him to _keep him_. That this must all be done to work in Juyeon's favor, months worth of patience and unyielding effort just so he could add Chanhee to all the pretty things he's found and kept displayed on his shelves.

Fully accepting that to be locked away is his only fate.

So Juyeon steps closer, understanding now, and hoping that every line of his body shows sincerity as he pulls him close and says, "My heart is forever the only place wherewith I will hold you to." 

He thinks of the way Chanhee calls his place home, domesticity is a delight when it's from mutual feelings, and it feels like Chanhee feels the same.

The other, now slow sinking in his arms, stiff still as if struck with the weight of Juyeon's words. So Juyeon carries on, pushing through limits as he continues, "I only asked of you to come back, remember? I've never asked for more, Chanhee." 

A shift in his arms, eyes looking up to stare at his, _A promise to only ever look at the sea in quiet admiration._

Chanhee's skin is cool to the touch, and the water that clings to his body is soaking Juyeon's clothes. He isn't shivering, he thinks the feeling is grounding, but Chanhee against his body is now used to warmth. There's a tremble through his limbs that he fights to make his voice sound strong and steady, and Juyeon knows that he wouldn't be able look at the sea the same way again.

"But if _I_ asked for more, Juyeon, what would you give me if I asked you for more?" 

{ More? Then,

My bed with you on all nights, stormy and otherwise, where the thunders could not frighten you even in your dreams. Your songs sung not alone, not danced to alone, every melody you could ever let me sing with you. Honey and tea and blooms and books and your laughter ringing true unbridled as we walk through streets, hands held unafraid and unquestioned. Open doors and open arms as you come back from the sea, no questions if you would not want there to be.

All the warmth and heat and suns you could ever wish for. Everything I could give you, everything you would want of me.

Everything. } 

And there had never been a question easier to answer, Juyeon already thinking of a life spent loved and loving on equal terms if Chanhee only lets him. He touches his forehead to the other's and with as much heart as he can, answers, "Everything of me, and freedom for you to leave whenever you may choose to go. As long as you wish for it."

So quick and certain and true, nothing but the purest intentions, because it is what is mirrored in Juyeon's heartbeats. It's a delirium inside of him; the steady plangent beats always a constant couple, the reassuring _ba-dump_ counting two like the weeks before Chanhee goes away, counting two like the nights before Chanhee comes home to stay.

It's thundering deep inside his chest, and he's feeling lightheaded with the way his heart pumps too fast. But Chanhee lays a hand on his chest, another on his cheek, and he'd been scared by everything loud so Juyeon thinks his heart would scare him away too. 

Which is why Juyeon's surprised to taste salt on his mouth, when Chanhee braves the clamor beneath his skin and leans in to love him in a way where there's no words needed.

_﹏﹏﹏_

{ _This has stopped being a dream, I waken to hold you._

 _This is no dream, I wake to love you, and now for myself find that you're always, always tasting of the sea_. } 

**Author's Note:**

> will i ever stop referencing sea and ocean themes? not in the foreseeable future.
> 
> (the audio i played while writing this was hyunjae's dazed profile which i converted to mp3 bc i rlly love the sound of it !!!)
> 
> also ! thank you for reading !! [my twt!](https://mobile.twitter.com/jjukyus) [my curiouscat!](https://curiouscat.qa/kyuisms)


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